


The Center of my Line

by TuppingLiberty



Series: Tlib's Superstition Hockey Fanfics [2]
Category: Superstition Hockey
Genre: Anal Sex, Aromantic Character, Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Homophobia, M/M, Post-Canon, Vow renewal, very brief - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 12:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13295001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuppingLiberty/pseuds/TuppingLiberty
Summary: What happens after Luc and Jacks release the video on Twitter? Still celebrating their Cup win, the guys spend some blissful alone time together, and then Luc asks Jacks a question.





	The Center of my Line

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LeftWingLibrarian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeftWingLibrarian/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Until the Whistle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12633378) by [Superstition_hockey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superstition_hockey/pseuds/Superstition_hockey). 



> Thank you so much to Superstition_hockey for this wonderful work and these wonderful characters, and for letting others play in the sandbox with you. <3 <3
> 
> CW: Luc mentions some homophobic comments he's received on Twitter.

One of the blurry days after the Cup win, Luc is pressed up against his neck, lazily sucking a mark there, his leg flung over Jacks’ middle. They’re sticky, and stinky, and still euphoric, though it’s hard to tell if it’s from the booze or the win. At some point, Jacks figures he’ll get Luc up and in the shower, and then maybe dressed for the day. Maybe. 

“We should go on a honeymoon,” Luc murmurs against his skin. 

Jacks snorts, running his hand over Luc’s trapezius and squeezing. “What do you think we do every summer?”

He feels Luc’s frown against his skin. “I don’t know, hang out, travel, have sex a lot?”

“That’s a honeymoon, bro.” He strokes through Luc’s hair and watches Luc’s lashes flutter against his cheeks. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over how much Luc loves his touch. He kisses Luc’s forehead. “But we should definitely travel. Where do you want to go?”

Luc’s lower lip pouts out a little. “I wanted to be romantic and go on a honeymoon. Now that we can do all that romantic shit out and proud, you know?” 

Jacks laughs, and kisses Luc again. “We still can, babe.” 

Luc looks disgruntled. “I’m pretty sure it’s not a romantic honeymoon if it’s stuff we’re used to.” 

“Oh, so are you going to stop sending me flowers, then?” Luc’s eyes pop open and he looks anxious, and Jacks wants to kick himself for saying it aloud. “Don’t stop sending me flowers, please. I love them.” He brushes his lips over Luc’s forehead again. “I love you.” 

It makes Luc go all soft in his arms again, and he crawls up Jacks’ body a little to be able to kiss him on the mouth. They both really, really need to brush their teeth at some point, Jacks thinks, but sighs underneath Luc’s weight. 

“I just worry, you know?” Luc says, voice all gravelly and deep from the extensive partying that’s been happening the last few days. 

“About what, Chants?” He wants to hear Luc say it aloud. Out in the open is the only way they can tackle things. 

Luc groans and buries his face in Jacks’ neck again. “About- that- Oli-” He stops and starts, then falls silent for a bit. “That I won’t be the husband you deserve. That I have to look up how to be fucking romantic on the internet, and you deserve someone who just knows this stuff.” 

Jack’s cups Luc’s face in his hands and makes eye contact. “You’re doing a good job. You’re my favorite husband, even.” 

That gets a smile from Luc, and another kiss. 

“Besides, you may have a C in this marriage,” Jacks continues, bringing one of his hands to rest over Luc’s heart, where the captain’s letter would be on his jersey, “But so do I. Co-captains for life, Luc.” 

Luc places his hand on Jacks’ chest too. “Co-captains for life,” he vows, utterly serious.

Of course the hockey metaphor would work, Jacks thinks. “Meaning you’re not the only one who has to come up with the romantic ideas.”

“It doesn’t count if you come up with a romantic idea for yourself.” 

“Sure it counts. Counts if I’m the one that knocks the puck in, right?” Luc’s brows furrow, as if he’s figured out what Jacks is onto with the hockey metaphors thing, so Jacks rushes on. “Look, my dude, I know it’s hard for you, and I know you worry. I just want you to give yourself credit. You’re doing a good job. Great job. The best job. Favorite husband,” he says again, as if he’s reminding Luc. 

Luc’s brows ease, and he laughs, wrapping his arms around Jacks’ neck and squeezing him in a tight hug. “You’re mine, too.” 

_ Thank god, _ Jacks thinks. 

There’s a brief knock on the door before Buddy breaks in and tosses Luc’s phone onto their bed. “Your notifications blowing up. Vibrating coffee table. Most annoying.” With that, he promptly leaves again, the buzzing phone resting against Jacks’ thigh.

“I mean I know I’ve seen him naked in the locker room but do we maybe need to set some boundaries?”

“Why does he think I left the phone downstairs?” Luc grumbles at the same time. “I’ll talk to Buddy,” he says next, because dammit, he  _ is _ a good husband, and Jacks has to laugh. 

Luc scrolls through his notifications, then just shuts his phone off. “Lots of suggestions on twitter about what our next five year plan should be, and only like half of them are ‘eat bleach and burn in hell, sinner.’ Amazing.” His voice is dry as dust as he cuddles into Jacks again. 

“Fuck ‘em.” 

“Yeah. I’m not worried.” He kisses Jacks’ slowly. “How are you feeling about it?”

Jacks takes the time to think about it. To be honest, he expected anxiety. Instead, he’s felt serene since Luc posted the video. “Everyone we love already knew. I’m really fucking excited about being able to kiss you in public, though.” 

Luc’s grin is contagious. “Oh god, me too. Show everyone you’re mine.” His voice goes a little growly.

Jacks knows he probably should _not_ be so into Luc’s possessive behavior, but damn. 

And then Luc ups the ante. “Do you think we should hyphenate? Get new jerseys next season?”

And Jacks’ heart  _ thuds _ in his chest because- “Yes.  _ Yes.” _

And he pulls Luc down for a fast kiss, opening his legs up so he can wrap them around Luc and pull him closer. Luc lets out a little ‘oof’ of surprise that sounds very French and very happy. Jacks reaches down to stroke him to hardness as their mouths glide over each other. It hasn’t been that long since the last round, but they’re elite athletes, after all. 

Luc slicks his cock up with more lube, and slips inside Jacks just like that; Jacks is still loose and wet from earlier, yeah, they really need to shower, but for now this is perfect. This is exactly what Jacks wanted, to take Luc inside him and hold him there, to possess Luc as much as Luc possesses him, to belong to each other above anyone else. 

“What do you think,” Luc asks with a grunt as he thrusts over Jack’s prostate, “Chantal-Jackson or Jackson-Chantal?”

“Chantal-Jackson. Alphabetical. Sounds good.” Jacks digs his heels into Luc’s perfect ass and meets every thrust. 

“Or we could go by points.”

Jacks groans at the laughing look in Luc’s eyes and slides his fingers into Luc’s hair. He pulls, hard enough to make Luc’s pupils blow out. “You are not making our name a competition.” He softens the command by pulling Luc’s head down to kiss him. 

_ “Our name,” _ Luc whispers against his lips, his hips pistoning. 

Jacks keeps his eyes open to kiss Luc again, looking at the love there, the love that’s always been there for him. It overwhelms him, and he breaks the kiss to bite into Luc’s neck. Christ, he’s so covered in lovemarks it’s ridiculous, but that just fuels Jacks’ feeling of possession even more. 

It’s probably their earlier bout that makes this one last forever, until it feels like Jacks is clawing after release, crying for it, desperate. Luc is fucking him so good, and they’re so in love, and they’re fucking Cup winners, and how is this even his life?

He must have babbled that all aloud because Luc slows, cups Jacks’ face in his hands, and whispers comforting French words in his ear. He wraps one hand around Jacks' cock, and strokes him slowly, still murmuring, telling Jacks he’s so good, and he’s going to come, and it’s going to feel so good. “Go over,” he commands, and Jacks does. 

He feels Luc come inside him, drifts for a bit with Luc’s head cradled against his, their hearts knocking together. 

“We need to clean up,” Luc grunts eventually. 

“Yeah,” Jacks agrees, without moving. 

Luc smiles against his skin. “Je t’aime.”

“But I smell bad?”

“Well, we both do,” Luc says with a grin. “Come on.” 

 

In the shower, Jacks lets Luc take care of him, wash his hair, clean the cum and lube off of him. 

“Hey,” Luc murmurs in his ear, his arms around Jacks waist because Luc always needs to be touching him, even when they’ve just stepped out of the shower. “We should get married.”

“You’re about five years too late, bro.” Jacks turns around to look at Luc’s face. 

“You said ‘everyone we love already knew.’ That’s true, but they weren’t there. We should, uh, what’s it called. Renew our vows. Since we got the Cup. Maybe get dressed up, you look so good in that one blue suit. With like, music and stuff? At our place by the lake. We could throw a party, I bet our moms would want to help plan it. People could camp out. Oh! Mako could be one of our groomsfolk. And Crash. Probably other people I’m forgetting at the moment but I think I might still be a little drunk and also I’m just brainstorming--” Luc pauses, looking self-conscious as he drags a towel over his body. “What?”

Jacks has to stare at him silently for another few seconds to be able to work his jaw up. “That’s- you- that’s-” He brings up the towel to dry his hair and hide his face for a moment, but there’s no use for it, his fair complexion shows tears way to easily. 

“Whoa, dude, what did I say? I mean, no, I mean, I’m sorry, whatever I said-”

“No- no. No, God, it’s okay, I’m sorry.” Jacks flips the lid down on the toilet and sits. “I, shit, I just- it’s stupid.” 

Luc sits against the wall and looks up at him patiently. 

“You know I- I  _ liked _ you, back then.”

Luc nods, and nudges Jacks’ foot with his own. “I did too, I just didn’t know exactly how.” 

“I had fantasies,” Jacks says, then laughs when Luc waggles his eyebrows. “That, yeah, but also. Like. About marrying you.” He buries his face in his towel again. “All dressed up. On a beach, maybe.” 

“Fuck, bro, we can fly everyone to Ibiza, no problem.” 

Jacks laughs again, and pulls his face out of the towel. “No, I like the idea of having it at home. New Brunswick. The lake. Camping out in the backyard. Mom’ll love it.”

“Dude, do you think we can get, like, Rogue or Stick or someone to officiate? I think you can print that stuff off online.”

Jacks slides down to join Luc on the tiles. “We don’t actually need a legal priest, Chants, we’re already married.” He kisses his husband and threads their hands together. “But fuck yeah, the officiant’s gotta be a friend. And Mako should be the ringbearer, not a groomsfolk.” 

“Ringbearer! Brilliant! Best plays, Jacks, best plays.” Luc pauses, rubbing his thumb over Jacks’ ring finger. “We should get something a little classier than those hematite rings, huh?”

“What, you aren’t going to have us exchange Cup rings?”

Luc punches him playfully in the arm. “I’m not  _ that _ bad.”

“You are, though.”

“No  _ you _ are.”

And from there it just sort of devolves into a wrestling match, although Jacks makes them move out of the bathroom because there’s no way they’re becoming a household statistic. 

 

Although the moms are less than thrilled to be given a four week turnover - after they absolutely refuse to agree to the week that would make it their anniversary - they pull it off, because of course they do, they’re the moms. They’ve been planning this for longer than Jacks has been fantasizing about it. 

They’re aiming for sunset, but there are already a bunch of little paper lanterns lit up around the backyard, and fairy lights along the porch. The moms vetoed Luc’s idea of a bonfire cookout in favor of catered Hawaiian plate lunch, “so the yard won’t be smoky for pictures, Luc,” Dr. Luc’s Mom had pointed out. 

The kegs have already been tapped, too, and the rugby women are pregaming keg stands in their dresses. He’s already been informed they expect him and Luc to play a game of pick up post-vows. Jacks is not actually sure he wants to risk an injury, but he’ll have to go in to protect Luc’s ass anyway. Marriage and what not. 

What Jacks didn’t expect is that he’s nervous, just a little. It’s not like anything bad is going to happen. But the moms insisted on keeping them separate since last night, and damn, after the last year, it’s even harder to say goodbye to Luc. 

All the pre-wedding stuff sort of blends together, until everyone is seated in rented chairs, already half drunk, and Jacks is looking expectantly up the aisle after having walked his mom down. 

Luc walks down with his mom on one side and his dad on the other, and he’s beaming, all summer-tan and gorgeous in the golden sunset light. 

And then Luc is in front of him, holding his hands, with Crash between them, grinning broadly. Luc had wanted her as a groomsfolk, but this is so much better. 

“I believe you’ve prepared your own vows,” she says, eyes bright. 

Luc turns from her and looks directly in his eyes. “Oliver Chantal-Jackson, I promise to keep loving you like the best of bros, despite nothing.” He waits as laughter ripples through the crowd; most of them have seen the infamous Vegas wedding video by now to recognize the line, though Luc has modified it a bit. “I promise we’ll always play on the same team together, even if I have to burn the city of Philadelphia to the ground.” 

“What if I get traded to Toronto?”

“I’ll still burn Philadelphia down, it’s probably their fault anyway.”

More laughter, though Jacks has to reach up and flick a tear away. He takes a deep breath. “Luc Chantal-Jackson, I promise to keep loving you, even though you  _ did _ go all California hippie on me.”

“Nah, California surfer,” Crash interjects.

“California surfer, then. Thanks for not growing a beard,” and Luc laughs aloud at that, eyes dancing. “You will always be the captain of my heart, Christ, that’s so bad, why aren’t we drunk?”

“Gotta finish it out, bro.” Luc wipes his own tear away. “You’ll always be the center of my line.” 

They don’t have to list names this time.  _ Like Chants and Jacks, _ Luc’s eyes say.

Luc whistles so that Mako comes running down the aisle, and they slip the gray tungsten rings - chosen because it looks like classier hematite, Luc’s idea - on each other. 

“One last thing before we get this shit started,” Crash says, pulling out two ‘diques Stanley Cup champions hats and putting them on their heads backwards as the crowd cracks up. “Kiss your husband.” 

The kiss is way better this time around. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I absolutely fell in love with Superstition on December 17, 2017, and I've been unable to think about or read anything else ever since. I would die for Luc Chantal. I'm not sure I've ever been more in love with a character. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. :)


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